The Tuning of Violins

The Tuning of Violins
Daylight breaks and the blackbirds call.
And the market stalls are all filling up.
Spilling over the street.
High above over Notting Hill
I am floating still in a wooden chair
With our restless dog.

I’ve been away so long I almost forgot how time and space
Cannot replace this feeling
Of flying over things.
Now you’re falling awake your sleepy face begins to register
That I’m coming home.
Yeah I’m coming home to you.
On a Sunday only we know
Where the sunlight and the wind blows.
Over bluebells, over Blackheath.
Calling your name I will float through your window.
Major third
Or a minor seventh.
I’m a violin tuned a little sharp.
Tuned a little below.
Coming around the bend the hallway ends.
The chair it dips and then it bends.
And it has wings for legs.
Now you’re deep in a dream
The sheets and pillowcases seem to overtake your head.
I’m at the foot of our bed.
On a Sunday only we know
Where the sunlight and the wind blows.
Over bluebells, over Blackheath.
Calling your name I will float through your window.
Break through the silence.
The gulf that’s between us.
Take all the heartache and bullshit that builds up.
And we will unravel
Unravel the moments.
Yeah we will unravel
Unravel the moments.

On a Sunday only we know
Where the sunlight and the wind blows.
Over bluebells, over Blackheath.
Calling your name I will come to your window.
I’ll be calling your name as I float through your window.